


A Love Story Like Whoa

by jellytea



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellytea/pseuds/jellytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For queensity who wrote: "At this point, if I actually shipped them, I would now be FORCED to write a fic that's, like, a bunch of different moments in their lives as they grow up, and how they totally never date as adults but do sometimes just hook up for making out (and whatnot), eventually hitting a point where they realize they've been in love all along and get together, rom-com style" and it has latched onto my brain, so this is the result.</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Love Story Like Whoa

**Author's Note:**

> For queensity who wrote: "At this point, if I actually shipped them, I would now be FORCED to write a fic that's, like, a bunch of different moments in their lives as they grow up, and how they totally never date as adults but do sometimes just hook up for making out (and whatnot), eventually hitting a point where they realize they've been in love all along and get together, rom-com style" and it has latched onto my brain, so this is the result.

16.

The first time Camille laid eyes on Logan Mitchell, she was determined to have him - as a boyfriend, as kissing practice, she didn't care too much about labels. He was quiet and relatively calm compared to the other boys in Big Time Rush, but he had great chocolate-colored eyes, and she liked his crooked smile and the way he walked. While he was smarter and calmer than Carlos, Kendall, or James, she could always find him amidst their crazy schemes and prank wars and general shenanigans around the Palmwoods.

And being the excellent method actress that she was, she swiftly moved on from using Kendall as the target of her slaps and rehearsals. (Because no offense to the leader of the band, his perpetual bemused expression and jaw dropping didn't exactly lend any credibility to the scene she was working on.) And what better way to both practice _and_ stake her claim on Logan - before the new girl got any funny ideas - than to lay a big one on him in the middle of the Palmwoods' lobby? 

So she swiped on the brightest red lipstick she owned, marched down to the lobby, and kissed Logan all over the face, leaving lip markings all over him, making clear to everyone that she had dibs.

18.

By the time Camille turned eighteen, Camille and Logan had gone through countless breakups and makeups. And even while they were technically "broken up," that didn't stop her from randomly grabbing him and kissing him or slapping him. Usually right in the middle of the lobby or in the middle of the pool deck or in apartment 2J.

Or in the supply closet right across from apartment 2J.

"Camille - mphm - what -" Logan spluttered as Camille jumped out from behind the corner and grabbed his arm, dragging him into the supply closet, having ambushed him as he stepped out of the elevator. She threw him into the closet, closed the door behind her, and bracketed her arms around either side of Logan.

"Hey, Logie. What's up?" she breathed, smiling when she saw that he was staring at her lips, and looking a little dazed.

"You - you smell great," he said, his voice a little strangled. She nodded and took a step closer, brushing against the front of his button-up. She crooked her head a little to the right, and they stood there, just looking at each other. And then he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against hers. Camille felt her breath catch and she mmm-ed.

Logan drew back. "What?"

"Nothing - just. That was the first time you kissed me."

"What?" his voice went up an octave. She giggled, and he cleared his throat. "What are you talking about? We've been kissing regularly for the past two years."

"Yeah. Me always kissing you. And the reality show doesn't count."

Logan's eyebrows drew together, and Camille knew he was sifting through all of their hook ups in his head. And then he gave her that crooked grin - the one that made her insides flip flop - placed a hand on the small of her back, and kissed her again.

"I better starting making up for that, then," he murmured. He pulled her close, until she was flush against him, her legs nestled in between his. She brought her hands down to rest on Logan's chest, enjoying this unexpected take-charge behavior, that was, frankly, really hot.

23.

Big Time Rush was still going strong, and Camille had gotten several movies under her acting belt, and they'd decided to simplify things by agreeing that they were close friends who sporadically made out or hooked up with each other. (Sporadically? Who was he kidding? Often! Often they kissed! And groped each other! And they did sleep with each other...a lot...after starting this whole friends business.)

The band had just wrapped up a concert, and they were sprawled out in their dressing room, sweaty and tired and hoarse from singing for two hours straight. Kendall was wiping down with a towel, Logan was sucking down the contents of a water bottle, Carlos was listlessly flapping his hands in front of his face, and James was tying a wet bandanna around his forehead.

Logan's phone buzzed from underneath him - he had forgotten he'd shoved his phone into the cushions right before the concert. He tapped at the screen until he saw a text message from Camille.

 _Great job, L! Jo and I are throwing a party. At my place. See yo_ _u at 10._

He laughed, and looked up at his bandmates. "Guys. Party at Camille's."

James perked up. "Nice. At her new apartment?" Logan nodded. James sprang up from the couch, and fished his car keys out of the shallow bowl perched on his vanity. "I need to get ready, and its going to take a while to get from sweaty concert James into pretty party James, so let's move!" He made flight-attendant-esque hand motions above his head.

Carlos laughed, shoved at Kendall, pulled on his leather jacket, and followed James and Logan out the door.

+

  
By the time Big Time Rush got to Camille's apartment, it was close to 11, and the party was in full rage. Logan just pushed open the door - knocking and waiting for someone to come to the door was a little fruitless - and walked in. He headed towards the makeshift bar while Kendall zoomed around the apartment to find Jo, and Carlos and James immediately bopped their way towards the dance floor.

"Hey, Logan." A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, and he felt Camille drop a kiss on his neck. "You made it!" He grinned and turned around to face her.

"Miss me?"

Camille rolled her eyes and just kissed him again. "What do you feel like drinking? Punch? Beer?"

"Psch, you know me. Hand me a beer!"

She gave him a red cup filled with punch. He smiled even bigger. She did know him, all right. The sweeter and more lethal the drink, the better.

+

  
They stumbled into Camille's room, tugging at shirts and and belts, toppling onto her bed. They paused kissing just enough to get comfortable on her bed, and then Logan was on top, his weight warm and comfortable. He smelled so good, and his hair felt great, and she was sliding her hand underneath the top of his jeans, playing with the elastic strap of his boxers.

And then both of them were naked, and Camille's leg was hooked around his waist, and they were kissing open-mouthed. Logan's hands were traveling all over her body, and she buried her hands in his hair, and their tongues were tangling, and she was jerking her hips up to meet his. And then he reached over to slip a condom on and then he was sinking into her, and she was groaning and panting, and they'd stopped kissing, and his head was buried into her neck, and he was mouthing at her collarbone, and she felt fantastic, and then she was feeling warm all over, and then she felt her insides shudder, and he came a few moments after she did, and then he was collapsing on top of her.

After Logan got his breath back, he gingerly pulled away from Camille, discarded the used condom, and then wrapped his arms around her again, loving the feel of her curves and soft skin against him. She threw a leg over his hips and they lay like that, breathing deeply, eyes fluttering shut, comfortably squished against each other.

27.

"You were incredible, Camille!" Logan grabbed Camille in a huge hug, the flowers in his hand jabbing uncomfortably into her neck. Carlos, James, Kendall, Jo, Katie, and Guitar Dude were all standing behind him, nodding, holding flowers as well. 

"Yeah?" she asked once they drew apart. She knew her smile was enormous, she felt like she was flashing all of her teeth, but she didn't care. She'd invited her friends to the premiere of her new movie, a movie she was so proud of, and she had been anxious at their reactions the entire showing.

"We're having dinner at the fanciest place you know to celebrate!" Carlos said, bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for his turn to hug Camille. He shoved at Logan's shoulder until he stepped away, and then Carlos swooped down and gathered Camille into a bear hug. James snorted, and gently pried Carlos away, before leaning down and kissing Camille on the cheek. The rest of the group had their turn at hugging her, even Katie, who was notorious at holding back on affectionate gestures.

"Let's go. Milady?" Logan said, offering his elbow to Camille.

+

  
The fanciest place Camille knew ended up being her apartment. Logan, using the key she'd given him ages ago, had gotten take out from Camille's favorite Italian restaurant, had ordered Katie to pick up several bottles of wine (which were incredibly expensive), and had put James and Carlos in charge of decorations and music (which explained the tree lights and the big speakers and Big Time Rush music, more of a nostalgic touch than anything).

This was fantastic. So much better than waiting in line for a table for an hour in a half. Camille had scrubbed off all her makeup and thrown on her sweats the minute she got back into her apartment, and had urged everyone else to ransack her place for proper lounging attire as well. Within thirty minutes, everyone had changed out of their glamorized outfits, and were milling in the kitchen and living room, laughing and talking, holding plates of chicken marsala and mashed potatoes and stuffed mushrooms and salad.

Holding a glass of wine in her hand, Camille wandered over to Logan, who was standing, chatting with Guitar Dude, who was looking remarkably fresh and awake - his hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he'd ditched the sunglasses for the night - and fit herself into Logan's side, wrapping an unoccupied arm around his waist. Guitar Dude winked at her and popped a mushroom into his mouth.

"I think I'm going to get some more chicken, man, it's epic," he drawled, making a small salute before ambling into the kitchen.

"Thanks, Logan, this is great," Camille said, briefly squeezing Logan's waist. He dropped a kiss on top of her head.

"Anything for my girl."

Camille smiled brightly up at him, ignoring the feeling in the pit of her stomach. This arrangement worked for them. Trying to label themselves as girlfriend and boyfriend just led to shouting and jealousy and complications. This was good. And she wasn't a naive teenager anymore, she was a successful actress who shouldn't dwell in fantasies of being swept off her feet by her best friend. She's just incredibly physically attracted to him. That's all.

"Could I spent the night tonight?" Logan asked softly, grabbing Camille's glass and taking a sip from it. She nodded. He squeezed her shoulder, grinned, and leaned down to kiss her. He nibbled on her lower lip, and she sighed with happiness.

32.

 _Knock. Knock._

Camille opened the door, rubbing at her eyes. Her mouth dropped open, drinking in the sight of a disheveled Dr. Logan Mitchell, who was holding a bag of Chinese food in one hand, and was loosening his tie with the other. He looked rumpled and disheveled and utterly delicious.

"I'm off shift and I'm starving," he announced, walking into her apartment. After the band had amicably called it quits eight years ago, Logan had immediately applied to med school, and then had gone on to complete his three years of residency. He quickly snatched up a job at a children's hospital in L.A., having realized that he worked best with babies and younger children than with adults, within a year of finishing his residency.

"I have tomorrow and Saturday off," Logan said happily as he unpacked the takeout he brought.

"Logan. I do realize that doctors pull random shifts, even pediatricians, but it's three in the morning. Where in the world did you even find a place that was open so late?" Camille yawned, tightening the straps on her robe, as she sat down at her kitchen table. She propped her chin onto her hand, just watching Logan wander around her kitchen, pulling out glasses and forks and plates, as familiar with her place as he was with his. She nodded her thanks when he set down a glass brimming with water in front of her.

"I got moo shu beef and fried rice. Do you want a plate?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Logan finally sat down at the table, setting a plate overflowing with vegetables and meat and rice in front of him. He shrugged off his suit jacket, and started inhaling all the food. Camille just watched him, smiling. She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. He stopped eating and turned to look at her.

"You're just so darned cute, Logan Mitchell," she said, shrugging. Logan grinned cheekily before turning his attention back to his plate. He finished everything he brought in about twenty minutes.

"Damn, that was great," he said, pushing back from the table, and draining Camille's glass of water. He rubbed at his belly, content.

"How're you doing, Camille? I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

"That's because you haven't," Camille laughed. She turned in her seat, watching Logan dump the used plate and glass into her sink. "I'm really good. I just got the script for next week's episode, so I was reading that before I went to sleep." For the past six months, she'd been working on a television show about bickering chefs, and her role was the sassy sous chef who acted as the voice of reason for the main two love interests.

"Great, great. I'm sorry I missed your birthday last week," Logan apologized, sitting back down at the kitchen table. He brought the chair closer to Camille, and set his hands on top of her knees.

"No, it was fine. I went out with Jo and the guys," Camille shrugged. She brought her hand up to toy with the ends of Logan's hair. "It was fun. Did you know James and Carlos are planning to take a trip down to New York, and get married?"

"Yeah. It's wild," Logan nodded. His eyes fluttered shut, loving the feel of Camille caressing the back of his neck. "I missed you."

"Me too," she said, kissing the corner of his mouth. He turned his head slightly and deepened the kiss, moving his hands up from her knees to her back.

"Do you have an early call time tomorrow?" Logan asked huskily when they came up for air.

"Nope. I just have to be in my 1," Camille answered breathlessly.

"Excellent," he growled, standing up and pulling her with him to her bedroom.

+

  
Logan looked over at Camille, who was sleeping next to him, looking serene and content. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb, just drinking in the sight of her. He loved Camille, he always had. She was the greatest - and hottest - friend he had. She'd mellowed out a little bit since their Palmwoods days, but he was glad she hadn't lost the zaniness that had drawn him in. And he really loved kissing her and having great sex with her, and this whole friends with benefits arrangement worked for them, particularly because their schedules didn't always match up. He wasn't totally comfortable when he saw her picture in the magazines, with her arms wrapped around another guy, but they weren't dating, he didn't have any reason to lay claim on her.

It's, just, he could imagine them working out, as a couple, way in the future. He could imagine him coming home to the apartment or house that he shared with Camille, and to just spend the whole night talking and laughing with his amazing best friend, and to fall into bed with that amazing best friend, and just do that. For the rest of his life. But, he was Logan Mitchell. Realistic. Logical. Pragmatic. And he wouldn't let his fantasies take over his brain and ruin everything.

34.

It was icily cold on New Year's Eve. And Logan had dragged Camille onto her balcony, after warning her to bundle up, because they would be counting down to the new year outside. She stepped outside, giggling, watching Logan hop around. Then her mouth dropped open when she saw a gigantic heart on the ground, made up of candles.

"Logan, what is this?" she whirled around to look at him.

"I love you, Camille," Logan said softly. "I always have." He was so close to her that she could see herself reflected in his eyes.

"What are you trying to do, Logan? Giving me the whole _When Harry Met Sally_ cliched happy ending?" Camille's voice was tight, and she was willing herself not to cry.

"Maybe. And I've been an idiot, so obsessed with 'the right time,' and I've been so blind, not even realizing what I had in front of me - I just need to ask. Do you love me? Because if you do, then I am stepping up, and we're ending up together, forever, for real."

Camille swallowed. And nodded. Quickly. "Yes. Yes. I do love you, you big idiot."

Logan's face split into an enormous smile and he grabbed her into a tight hug. He kissed her cheek, her nose, her mouth, all over. Camille laughed, blinking away tears. She kissed him hard on the mouth, not caring that their teeth clicked, or that their lips were dry because of the cold, or that they had missed the change from 11:59 to 12:00.


End file.
